BloodSworn

by Stacey Brutger

  They smelled like him.

  Male.

  Sexy.

  Which reminded her that she needed to get a move on if she didn’t want to be caught naked. He’d no doubt see it as an invitation.

  Sad part was she wasn’t sure he’d be wrong.

  She washed quickly and wrapped the towel around herself. She reapplied the bandages to her ribs, then wrinkled her nose at the pile of clothes on the floor and wished for something else to wear. It wasn’t vanity or the need to impress Merrick. At least that’s what she told herself. She’d been wearing the same clothes for weeks straight. Then her practical side reasserted itself. She couldn’t prance around naked, so she dressed.

  She was dead on her feet, her brain shutting down as she tugged the blanket off the bed.

  And kept on pulling, feeling a little like a magician pulling an endless handkerchief from his sleeve when the sheet never seemed to end. Silk. Of course. She bundled it in her arms and walked to the couch.

  Then pulled up short.

  A whole football team could sit side-by-side on the damn thing. With a sigh, she curled up in a corner feeling very small and alone.

  It was going to be a long night.

  * * *

  Merrick put his hand on the knob to his room then hesitated, uncertain what to expect. He knew what he wanted to find, but the truth was usually something altogether different.

  It took him longer than he expected to get ahold of both the wolves and the local witch council. The witches sounded surprised when he asked for a track and trace, but had insisted on sending over a Familiaran instead of just complying with his request. As for the wolves, he’d ordered a meeting first thing after dawn. For Dame Judith, that wouldn’t be before nine in the morning.

  He opened the room to darkness, and involuntarily sucked in a deep breath in hopes of catching her scent. He’d left her hat in his office and found himself missing her smell. His eyes adjusted almost immediately and came to rest on the bed.

  Only to find it empty.

  He tensed, ready to turn around and tear apart the house when he heard her soft breathing. Keeping his tread light, he followed the sound.

  And found her curled up at the far side of the couch, nearly hidden by the mound of blankets she’d pilfered from the bed. Her hair was still wet from the bath, and he smelled his soaps on her.

  It was a start.

  The proprietary feeling should’ve worried him, but all he felt was smug.

  Then he frowned to see that she had the same old clothes on from the day before. Probably her only clothes now that the ones she wore earlier tonight had been destroyed. He’d have some outfits delivered for her tomorrow. Women liked that sort of thing.

  When he gazed down at her, there was nothing striking about her appearance, nothing that should make her stand out to him. Yet she did. Taken separately, her features were plain, but something about the way they were put together, something about her shone through, making it impossible for him to look away.

  By shifter standards, she was delicate, barely reaching 5’ 6” if he had to guess, weighing no more than hundred and a quarter. That may be average for a human female her age, but to a shifter, she was tiny. Though curvy, she was missing the twenty pounds of padding that would make her eye-catching. Her breasts wouldn’t be more than a handful, but his palms tingled as he imagined how they would react when he touched them. Shifter women had either a rawboned or an overly voluptuous appearance. There was no in between.

  He wasn’t aware how long he stood there staring when his muscles tightened along his spine. The throbbing in his back had kicked up again ever since the fight, telling him to get some rest, but it rankled to see her on the couch, all alone and so forlorn. His heart ached as he looked at her.

  They agreed to separate beds, but he hated it.

  He wanted her in his bed, her scent on his sheets.

  He bent to scoop her up when something shiny caught his eye.

  The little knife she’d waved around earlier was clutched in her fist. He carefully uncurled her fingers and admired the workmanship of the blade. It was heavier than it appeared. And from the way his hands warmed from just holding the pommel, it was part silver.

  He tucked the knife under the pillow on the bed. Then ignoring the growing ache in his back, he scooped her up in his arms.

  He anticipated a fight.

  The last thing he expected was for her to curl herself around him, lay her hand over his heart and relax so trustingly against him. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before he mentally shook himself and laid her across his bed.

  He immediately missed her warmth.

  He wanted to crawl under the covers with her and wrap her in his arms. He wanted her to rest her head against him again, already missing her soft breath on his neck.

  Instead, he stripped, never once taking his eyes off her, memorizing the image of her stretched out on his bed. Then he carefully reclined on the couch…as much as his back would allow.

  As he gathered up the sheet from the floor, he saw the strap of her pack under the couch. He was so desperate for information on her, his fingers curled with the need to pull it out and snoop. But he couldn’t risk being caught.

  He had a feeling that she knew every fingerprint on the bag. He yanked up the sheet then inhaled when he caught her delicate scent mixed with his soap.

  It would take forever for him to fall asleep. His insomnia had been growing worse with each passing week. A few hours’ rest was all he could allow himself before he had to rise and prepare for the early morning meetings, not to mention that the men obviously needed to be trained harder.

  He shuddered to think what would’ve happened if she’d wandered home by herself. Either she would’ve run, or they would’ve killed her.

  Neither was acceptable.

  Part of him feared she would disappear on him if he closed his eyes. He stared at the bed, not even bothering to blink, half-expecting to see her form slip out of the room if he didn’t stay alert.

  Despite his best efforts, her scent and the sound of her steady breathing had his eyes falling shut.

  Chapter Ten

  Trina wasn’t aware what woke her, but she wanted to kill them when the warm, sensual dream faded. She held still, half-able to feel those hands linger on her body, but the outside world refused to bow to her wish.

  Sounds seeped in first.

  Or the absence of sounds.

  No tweeting of birds. No people coming or going. She groped for her weapon and sighed of relief when her fingers encountered cool steel.

  The image of the sexy man, bound and determined to bring her pleasure, vanished like a wisp of smoke, and she nearly whimpered.

  Then she became aware of the soft surface beneath her and not the hard lump of the makeshift bed she’d created in the shed. She cracked open one eye, uncertain what to expect.

  The Den.

  Merrick.

  He was the Leo. Of course he was. How could she not have known? And how the heck did she get his attention or more importantly, how did she escape it now that she was his concubine?

  Memories of yesterday flittered through her head. One thought rose to the forefront, like how she fell asleep on the couch and ended up on the bed.

  Half-afraid of what she’d find, she stretched out, shivering at the feel of silk against her skin. She was spread-eagle on the bed, nowhere near the sides, when she realized she was alone. Relief and disappointment struck in equal measure, and she hated that she felt both.

  The dream teased the back of her mind. She felt haunted by her phantom lover’s touch, the aching need when he kissed her. She was devastated by the loss, the realization he wasn’t real.

  She befriended humans, but had never committed to a relationship for the simple fact that any boyfriend she chose would always be in danger.

  She’d avoided the paranormal as well for fear of discovery. But the man in her dream was different. He knew about her past and could prot
ect himself.

  What hurt the most was it would only ever be a fantasy.

  She rubbed her eyes, banishing the dream as best she could. She had work to do. Sunlight streamed through the room, and she was surprised at how deeply she’d slept. A few more nights rest like last night, a couple of meals, and she’d be back to normal.

  But first she had to do her job.

  She scooted to the edge of the mattress and found that her feet dangled nearly a foot from the floor. She dropped down, the plush rug warm under her toes. She walked around the bed to grab her pack, probing her ribs, taking measure of her injuries.

  Or where her wounds should’ve been.

  She ripped off the bandages, wincing at the tug of stubborn tape. Deep bruises made the whole side of her body sensitive to even the slightest touch, but the open lacerations she’d sustained last night had closed. Smooth skin met her fingertips. Though she was thankful, the rapid healing didn’t bode well for her.

  It meant the bindings were weakening. How much longer before they broke all together? A small part of her, the little girl who’d lost her powers just as she found them, cheered at being able to defend herself. The adult trembled.

  What did she know about magic?

  If she reversed the process and stopped her magic from unraveling, she could buy herself some time. She was halfway bent down to kneel and grab her bag when she saw him.

  The same man from her dreams.

  A very naked man.

  Merrick.

  Her mind rebelled. She couldn’t have had a sexy dream about the man who might very well destroy her. Vampires had been in this very house not a day ago. She couldn’t forget that, no matter how much her body wanted to be worshiped by him.

  Merrick lay stretched out, dwarfing the extra-large couch. He didn’t look comfortable, but that wasn’t what captured her attention. The sun highlighted the golden color of his skin. It was just how she imagined his cat would appear.

  The only thing blocking her view was the sheet draped haphazardly over his slim hips. Her brain short-circuited at the thought of him completely nude.

  Him sleeping within a few feet of her and all without a stitch of clothing on struck her dumb, and her emotions jumbled at the conflicting emotions.

  She swallowed hard and fanned her face. No matter how much she might have wished it, there was no way that image would ever be far from her mind. Every time she saw him now, she would picture him stretched out as if for her pleasure.

  It didn’t matter that she was a doctor, that she’d seen hundreds of naked bodies. She knew layers of skin and bone, but nothing in her studies had ever shown a man structured quite like him, with muscles quite so defined and begging to be stroked.

  Doctor.

  She shook her head at the reminder, as if she could banish the impulse so easily. She needed to get a closer look at him to decide what was the best course of action…for medical purposes she told herself sternly when her pulse betrayed her and sped up.

  She just didn’t know if she’d survive it.

  One thing would help…getting him clothed.

  But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from that sheet. Or more precisely, what it hid. Where was a gust of wind when you needed one?

  Her fingers itched to explore all that exposed flesh, but she feared it had nothing to do with science. Her body urged her to touch, while the sane, sensible part of her mind seemed to have taken a vacation.

  Then she saw the lines of strain, the stiff way he held himself even in sleep. She needed to see his back.

  “Merrick, roll over.”

  Trina found herself sprawled across the floor with a lion, in all but animal form, half sprawled over her with his face just inches from hers.

  She hadn’t even seen him move.

  Was it her imagination or were his teeth sharper, his body larger, and his eyes shaded just this side of golden?

  She gave a tentative smile, knowing better than to try and escape. “Hello.”

  “Are we under attack?” He blinked as if confused, finally recognizing her. His sleepy expression sent her heart thumping hard against her ribcage. The rumpled appearance only made him more attractive, more approachable and more touchable than was good for her.

  Especially when she felt the sheet tangled around her feet.

  No matter how much she told herself not to do it, it was too late. Her eyes flickered downward.

  Yup, naked.

  And such a nice naked backside, too.

  It was her turn to blink when she felt his arousal.

  “Attack?” It sure felt like it, and she was unarmed. She cleared her throat when he continued to gaze around the room. “I woke you to begin your physical therapy.”

  Vivid green eyes met hers. The wildness had retreated, yet she very much felt like a mouse under a cat’s paw. Heat seeped in her pores, but the calculated look he gave her brought back some of her sanity.

  “Get up.” She resisted touching him. It would be a mistake as once she started, she was very much afraid she wouldn’t stop.

  Frown lines crinkled the corner of his eyes, and he levered himself up on all fours. Trina didn’t wait, but scrambled backwards, her eyes anywhere but on him and his now very happy dangly parts.

  “It’s safe.” The humor in his voice had her head snapping up. He stood, the sheet tucked around his waist. He wore a slightly disgruntled expression that looked sexy as hell and a too-knowing gaze that did things to her body that should be illegal…or bottled.

  She scratched her eyebrow, glanced around as if she could gather her scattered thoughts. When that didn’t work, she created a mental list of what she needed to get done today. Too bad the first thing on the list happened to be Merrick, but she wasn’t sure a reprieve would help any, not when the problem was her libido.

  A heavy sigh escaped, and she dropped her arm. “Up on the bed and lay on your stomach.”

  She retrieved her bag as he moved, grabbing a small notepad from the contents. Though occupied, her eyes had a mind of their own, sneaking glances as the big male prowled across the bed. But instead of taking her mind through the gutter, okay, all the way through the gutter, she noticed the stiff movements and the way he tried to hide it by overcompensating.

  She tightened her lips against the need to babble, but it did no good. “Where’s my hat?”

  She was such a dork. What woman, when confronted by a naked man like Merrick, one who made her toes curl with wicked thoughts, demanded her clothing back?

  “It’s safe.”

  She opened her mouth to argue when he lay down, and she got the first look at his back.

  She expected to see a wound.

  Instead, his back was peppered with badly healed entry points. There had to be five bullet holes in all, not to mention the half dozen removal incisions that were nothing more than ragged tears. It was like someone had used a butter knife to cut him open.

  Then it dawned on her.

  Claws.

  And from the angle of the injuries, his own. Her throat ached at the pain he had endured. Then she wanted to smack him for his stubbornness in not seeking help. No doubt it was because he didn’t want to be seen as weak in front of the pack.

  Knots of skin and muscles twisted up his spine in no discernible pattern. It was a miracle that he was alive, let alone able to walk at all.

  “When did you say this happened?” She was lured closer by his body again, but more in a professional curiosity this time.

  “Six weeks.” Merrick hated the silence when she got the first good view of his back. He refused to glance at her, unable to bear seeing her flinch and turn away from him in disgust.

  He’d slept better last night than he had in a long time with nearly six hours of uninterrupted sleep. He had a sinking feeling it was because of her. It only made him more determined that she wouldn’t leave, not until he found out exactly what was going on between them.

  When she woke him, he’d thought they were under attack. Primal f
ear for her had him reacting instead of assessing the situation. The quick movements had jarred his back, and he was now paying the price.

  He was about to push himself up on his arms and soak his muscles in a hot shower when he felt the bed dip. Cool fingers brushed over his shoulder, and he flinched, but not in pain. Though she barely touched him, all his nerve endings lit up.

  “This might hurt a bit, but I need to see what type of tissue damage you’ve sustained.”

  So saying, she scooted closer and proceeded to lay her hands on him. At first she just randomly probed areas, and he tried not to recoil. For a distraction, he turned his head to study her face.

  She had pulled her hair back in a twist that hid all those wonderful highlights. Her gaze was so focused on her tasks and the notes she jotted down that she didn’t even notice his observation.

  It was hard to merge the image of the competent street fighter from last night to the bookworm before him, but both suited her. If anything, this vulnerable side made her all the more alluring.

  When her exam grew increasingly painful, he focused on the feel of her touch. He’d endure this and more if it meant getting her hands on him. The more she touched him, the more familiar and comfortable she would become with him.

  Despite the way her brows scrunched while working out the puzzle beneath his skin, he could tell that she liked it, too, by the way her hands lingered on him when she became lost in thought.

  When she stopped, he instantly missed her warmth, the smooth drag of her fingers over him. She didn’t immediately retreat, so he remained still, detesting the uncertainty as he waited for her verdict.

  She shut her book and sighed. Despite everything, he’d let himself believe that she’d be able to help. The disappointment struck hard.

  She’d be leaving at the end of the two weeks. He wasn’t strong enough to protect her longer than that. So why did he feel this ominous finality that if she left, his life wouldn’t be worth shit? “It’s okay.”

  She spoke at the same time. “I’d like to run some blood work. We’ll take samples every few days and set up a schedule for your back. When you’re to heat it, ice it, and what type of stretches and exercise need to be done.”